Tears in Rain
by Talos the Saiyan
Summary: Not every hero has a happily ever after, and not every battle can be a victory. Sometimes, heroes die. Follow the Gohan of Trunks' timeline as he enters his final battle. Character piece, one-shot. Finished.


Shattering glass cascaded around his body, raining down against his skin, and cutting deep groves bloody red. Pain flashed through his mind, but this was little indeed compared to the exhaustion he felt deep inside. Years of this sort of thing had built up on him, and he felt a deep sense of tiredness. His back was pressed firmly to the shattered wall of the building against which he had been thrown. He felt the rubble shift as something landed nearby. Confident steps moving towards him; how he hated that monster. How he hated them both.

Son Gohan forced aching eyes to open. His muscles screamed in protest, a deep wound in his belly bleeding freshly onto the ground around him. He was lying where he had fallen; surrounded by a bed of glass from the window which had shattered at his impact. Pain thundered through him, and weariness threatened to steal the sharpness from his thoughts.

Android Seventeen was coming towards him. For a moment, Gohan was lost in the ridiculous nature of his appearance. A human male, not much older than himself. Raven hair, not quite long or short. A face that was on the high end of handsome, if not quite enough to break into striking. Clothes that were indistinct, the sort that could be worn anywhere, by anyone.

There was nothing in his appearance to suggest what kind of monster he truly was. How much innocent blood was on his hands…

Except for his eyes…

He looked normal except for the eyes. When you looked at those, as Gohan did now, all you could feel was the mechanical coldness that existed within them. Like daggers of ice to the soul, those eyes didn't belong to anything remotely human.

Frieza had been a monster on the outside, but this creature was a monster within. Gohan shuddered, and felt a dozen old aches and pains reignite. The prizes of battles against these monsters long ago. None of them had ended in victories.

Neither would this one, by the look of it.

"Well, well, well, Gohan." Android Seventeen mocked him, his cocky attitude masking the cold killer inside. He was the kind of sadist that just liked to see you scream, Gohan had watched him and his sister when they had played with whatever city had been unlucky enough to draw their attention that day. He hated them. Hated them both with a passion his younger self would never have been able to guess. "It seems to me that he big, bad Super Saiyan is out of juice. Tell me, where's that purple-haired kid that tried to step in last time? I want him to be here to see you die."

 _Trunks._ Gohan closed his eyes for a moment, remembering the feel of his one hand striking the back of his pupil's neck, knocking him cleanly out of the fight, and keeping him safe. He was glad that he'd done that now. Trunks wouldn't have to see what would happen next.

Trunks wouldn't have to see him die.

How would it affect him, Gohan wondered. Would he be like his father? Seeking revenge? Throwing himself mindlessly at the foes? He hoped not… Trunks wasn't strong enough to survive that. But Gohan thought that he was smarter than that as well. He wouldn't fall for that, not like Vegeta had.

He remembered the scene when they had come across Vegeta's body. Remembered the torn wounds which still bled freshly into the cracked and ruined street. The lock of shock and horror still evident on the Prince's face.

Vegeta had never thought that anyone could rival him again once Goku was gone, but the androids had proven differently. Now, Vegeta was dead, Piccolo was dead, Tien was dead.

Soon, he would be dead.

The thought sent a spike of panic racing to his heart. He knew that he didn't want to die. More than anything else, he wanted to live. To live, and to keep fighting. He wanted to win, he wanted to save the world!

New power flowed through him, spurred by desperation, golden energy snarled into existence. Gohan rose to his feet with a snarl, his single hand filling with Ki. He thrust it forward, and blasting the space in front of him with a beam of strength, screaming, incandescent light filled his vision.

Seventeen had blocked, when the light cleared, Gohan saw him again. His arms crossed in a sudden desperate move, a deep trench gouged into the earth by the passage of the beam. The android smirked at him, but Gohan saw past that. Saw the way he was holding himself, the wounds that marked his arms.

 _I hurt him! I might...I just might be able to kill him._

He launched forwards, moving as quickly as he could with Ki-boosted strides, eating up the distance between them in an instant. Seventeen's eyes flashed, and he lunged forwards as well, driving for an overhead strike that Gohan was forced to sidestep. Since he was now at the side of the android, Gohan lashed out with a kick, striking a blow to the knees, and Seventeen went down. Awkwardly, Gohan's hand struck forward into a blow, but he was too slow, and Seventeen evaded with a burst of speed. Gohan's fist struck only the fading afterimage of his foe.

 _Damn._ Gohan thought to himself, his blood pounding. _That was close, if only I was a second faster, if I just had my other arm…_

That brought back painful memories, and not merely in the sense that such a de-limbing had been costly in terms of damage inflicted. No, he remembered far more the state that Trunks had been in when the final blow had been struck. That stupid boy, why had he tried to intervene in a fight between Gohan and the androids?

The answer was obvious, of course. Trunks was a Saiyan. A half-Saiyan like him. Some things were in the blood, and added to this, he was Vegeta's son. The chances of him staying out a fight were always minimal, Gohan should have known that. But then, he supposed that Trunks was better than his father ever had been. Vegeta had always fought for himself, even in the end. But Trunks… Gohan had never seen him fight for himself. He fought for others. For the innocent people he could save, for his mother, for Gohan himself. It was striking, in this world of blood and murder, to find someone so pure. And his power… Trunks would be a super Saiyan one day, Gohan knew it. Knew it in his bones. He had the potential, he had the power, all he needed was time.

Maybe that was why. When the androids had targeted Trunks, Gohan had leapt to save him, in the end, he'd succeeded, but it had cost him an arm. Something that given the lack of senzu beans, could never be regained. At first, the loss had been crippling. Many dark days had been spent during his recovery, lying on the bed that Bulma had provided for him. Knowing that he would always be weaker, always be lesser.

In his darkest hours, he'd even wondered if he had made the right choice. If saving Trunks was worth the loss of an arm that could have helped him defeat the androids. He was ashamed of these thoughts, even at the time, but he couldn't help but wonder… knowing that he might have sealed his own fate.

But if Trunks had cost him an arm, what he had given had been worth all of that and more. It wasn't just potential… when Trunks demanded to be trained, Gohan had seriously considered refusing. Knowing that it was practically suicide. The androids were powerful, and Gohan was an experienced fighter, but even he was outmatched when he went against them. To throw Trunks into the ring seemed nothing short of cruel.

But then, he had spoken in those words, that tone of voice, which was so like Vegeta, and yet not. It was arrogance, yes. The same way that Vegeta had spoken, but with Vegeta, that arrogance was concerned only with himself.

Trunks was concerned with everyone but himself.

"If you don't train me, eventually, they'll track us down and kill us anyway!" The youth had said. "If it comes down to that, I want to be able to fight. I'm a half-Saiyan like you, I have a right to be able to defend myself!" 

Gohan couldn't deny that. Not to Trunks, who had stood before him then, or to the visions of the past flashing before his eyes. He remembered a different half-Saiyan, forced to train to face a different pair of unstoppable alien warriors.

That was why he'd agreed. That was why he'd done what he had, even going so far as to take Trunks to the edge of the battle. Because Trunks did have a right to defend himself, he did have a right to become stronger. Gohan had looked at the boy, and seen the shade of Vegeta standing behind him. But soon, it was replaced by another ghost. One infinitely friendlier. As he'd trained the boy, and watched him grow, and felt the dawning sense of pride, he'd wondered if this wasn't exactly what Piccolo had thought long ago. That brought a sense of connection, a contentment with the role he had chosen, and a genuine like for the boy who had made him his teacher.

Seconds later, android Seventeen appeared above the crater, his hands full of energy, Gohan was moving as soon as he saw it, cursing his inability to sense him. Seventeen released the barrage, sending dozens of orbs spinning and dancing down to ran upon the city. Gohan sped up, forcing himself into a mad dash as the ground behind him caught flame. An explosion cut off his escape, and he ducked to the side, rolling as a building behind him caught the worst of it and exploded.

The light of the dying city burned across Seventeen's face. The android was laughing.

Gohan put a stop to that, phasing behind him with a burst of his own speed, and lashing out with a kick. Quick as a flash, Seventeen disengaged, one of his hands catching Gohan's ankle and redirecting the blow. They hung suspended in air for a moment, and Gohan twisted, driving a fist into Seventeen's face. The android lurched back in pain, and released his grip. Gohan shot forwards, but Seventeen blocked the follow up attack, and struck a blow to Gohan's side through his lowered guard. Pain screamed through his body as Seventeen's blow agitated the wounds he'd already taken. Strength fled his limbs for a moment only.

But a moment was all the android needed. Seventeen landed a crushing uppercut, sending Gohan flying through the air, as the Z-Fighter desperately tried to regain control of the fight, Seventeen launched another volley of Ki.

This time there was no escaping.

Gohan screamed as explosions blossomed across hid body, ripping wounds into his side, he desperately tried to block, but he only had one arm, and so, more and more attacks came through. Explosions rippled as far as he could see, and all he could feel was pain. After another moment, Gohan's guard was broken, and he was hurled back to the earth below. Smoke trailed his wake like a grisly comet. He landed hard, crashing through a building, and then lying limply on the street outside.

Pain fogged his mind. Worse than he had ever felt. Worse even than when he had lost his arm. It was so bad that he couldn't feel any individual wounds anymore, just one big mass of agony that his body had become. Torn flesh, broken bones, severed muscle? All one and the same. He groaned, and the action was itself the cause of yet more pain.

 _It looks like I'm going to be leaving you alone after all, Trunks. For what it's worth, I really am sorry…_

Trunks had become the light of his life. It was as simple as that. As he'd watched the young half-Saiyan train and grow stronger, Gohan had himself begun to experience things that he had thought lost to him since the world had gone to hell. Enjoyment in seeing another advance, pride in how far his student had come. Trunks became much more than just someone learning from him, something like a younger brother, or substitute son. He'd come so far, and though he thought of himself as weak, Gohan wondered if he wasn't the most powerful of all. He had depths, a hidden potential that reminded Gohan of himself when he was younger. But Trunks was already almost a Super Saiyan. How much further could he go?

Gohan smiled. The movement hurt, but it was worth it. Seventeen paused in his approach frowning.

"The hell are you smirking about? Did I hit you so hard that you actually think you're going to live through the next few minutes?"

Gohan growled, pain made his voice rough, and he blinked to clear his eyes of blood, so at least he could see the end coming clearly. He felt bitterness, and sorrow that he wouldn't live to see the end of things. To see the destruction of the androids. But he had done his best, more than his best really. Even though Dad had died before he could fight the evil machines, Gohan was sure that his father wouldn't have been able to do better than he'd done himself. He'd pushed himself so hard for this, made their destruction his only goal in life, his only purpose.

In doing so, he now knew that he had made a mistake. True, they were monsters that needed to be hunted down and destroyed, but Gohan had sacrificed himself to them. Chasing them and fighting them forced to run again and again when he was outmatched. He didn't live, he just survived. He had nothing in his life but sorrow, felt nothing but regret and loss. He'd mourned for a world dead years ago, and been unable to live in the present.

Then, Trunks had come. The son of Vegeta. The nemesis of his own father, and yet, Gohan had found him to be good and pure. Where his father had fought for himself, Trunks had wanted to help. Demanded to be able to defend others as he had been defended. When Gohan taught him, he used his power to try and end the androids, coming to the rescue of as many humans as he could. Even though that fight had nearly cost him his life, all he'd said afterwards was that next time he would be stronger. There was no doubt, no hesitation in trying again. At first, it had seemed that he didn't value his life, but that wasn't true. Trunks did value his life.

But he valued the lives of others more. He was a boy who wanted to do the right thing, gifted with the power of the son of a Saiyan Prince. Gohan wanted to chuckle, and would have if it hadn't hurt so much.

 _If we had Trunks instead of Vegeta, we never would have been in this situation. He's probably the best thing you ever did for us, Prince of the Saiyans._

Through Trunks, Gohan had remembered what he had lost. What he had taken from himself. Pride in another, the enjoyment of the company of other humans, being more than just a soldier, more than a fighter. Even reawakened old dreams of becoming a learned man, and perhaps even a teacher.

And so, he was able to smile now. In the face of death. In the face of failure. He hadn't been able to bring down the androids, for that, he was truly sorry. But he didn't fear for the future. Not even a little. He knew now, at the end, that Trunks was stronger. That Trunks would pick up where he had left off.

"I'm smiling because you've lost." He growled roughly. "Kill me now, it doesn't matter. Another will pick up where I left off. The light of hope isn't so easy to put out."

"You really think so? You can't be talking about that kid, can you? Eighteen handled him on her own, and next time, you won't be around to save him at the cost of an arm."

"You have no idea what you're talking about." Gohan returned. "Androids...you won't live long. Kill me now, it doesn't matter. I've already done the thing that was most important. This world will be saved."

"Maybe it will be." Seventeen returned. His hand moved, pointing to Gohan, and there was the twinkling of focused Ki. "But not by you."

One more bright flash of light, and Gohan felt the life leave his body. Darkness closed in, and he met it with a smile.

 _I'm sorry that I wasn't able to win, but I think you'll do better, Trunks._

 _I think you'll win._


End file.
